


Oh, Won't You Be My Valentine?

by Flantastic



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Loss of Virginity, Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 10:42:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flantastic/pseuds/Flantastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q has a crush and asks Bond to help him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, Won't You Be My Valentine?

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a Valentine's post and then I posted it late. Oops.
> 
> My plot bunnies have a terrible drugs habit. It's the only way I can explain how I came up with this...

James Bond was bored.

His last mission had been a success if you didn’t count the strange infection he received to a cut on his arm (which he’d picked it up while swimming across the Amazon River to infiltrate an illegal diamond smuggling operation which was funding a Hong Kong based terrorist). Unfortunately Medical did count it and he’d been signed off for two weeks pending him completing a successful course of antibiotics. When they’d failed to work and he'd been given a second, stronger course he’d been signed off active duties for a further month while he healed. The most annoying thing for him was that other than a persistent ache in his bicep, he felt fine. 

The fitness suite at MI6 only held his interest for so long before he’d started hanging around other departments. Intelligence put up with him for two days before Tanner banned him and Moneypenny only got to flirt with him for an hour before M threw Bond out for distracting her from her work. After grabbing some lunch he found himself outside the R & D department. 

He would have infiltrated Q-Branch next but he actually didn’t want to antagonise Q. He liked Q, Bond had warmed to him on their very first meeting, but unlike the rest of his workmates who Bond considered pen-pushers and bureaucrats, Q was actively useful and he didn’t want to distract him if he was inventing something that exploded in his search for entertainment. 

He slipped in the door quietly, wondering who he could find to annoy first. To his surprise, Q was there talking to one of the technicians. He immediately spotted Bond and waved him over.

“There you go! Who says there’s never a double-0 around when you need one?” he said to the slightly worried-looking man next to him brightly. “Bond! You look like you’re in need of something violent to do.” 

Bond grinned wolfishly, his grin widening as he saw the way the technician shrank back from him.

“I’m here to serve Quartermaster.”

“Excellent. Follow me please.”

He loped out of the department after Q, hanging back just enough to appreciate the younger man’s slim hips and tight arse. Cute. He was a bit “twink”-y for Bond’s taste but he was never one to leave a great arse un-appreciated whomever it was attached to. He’d even ogled Mallory’s once or twice. Q led him to the lift to the sub-level where the firing range was.

“Are we going to blow things up Quartermaster?”

Q held up the slim black box in his hands.

“How do exploding bullets sound?”

“Fucking marvellous.”

 

Bond ended up spending the whole afternoon with Q happily shooting at various targets with a modified Walther PPK. The bullets were designed to have a five-second delay before detonation which could be overridden to explode instantly with a remote control trigger which was positioned in the hand grip of the gun. Unfortunately, as they were the first prototypes, not all went according to plan. Some didn’t explode, some exploded on impact and Bond had problems with the positioning of the detonation trigger (which Q explained had been positioned following initial design consultation with 003). Q seemed pleased enough though, making notes and adjustments before re-measuring the placement of the remote control’s trigger in relation to Bond’s fingertips. He mulled over the positioning before announcing that he would just have to custom make each gun to exactly fit each agent’s own hand. Bond quietly sat as Q gently turned his hand this way and that for several minutes quite enjoying Q’s slim, calloused fingers ghosting over his own. He watched Q’s face as he worked intently, a frown creasing the area between his eyes, his tongue darting out as he concentrated. It was adorable really. Eventually though, he noticed Bond’s intent gaze.

“I’m not boring you, am I?”

Bond shook his head.

“I was just thinking that this is the first time I haven’t been bored since I got back.”

Q made a note on his clip board.

“Good, that’s good.” He flushed as he took the gun out of Bond’s hand, ejecting the empty clip and reloading it. “Good.”

Bond took the gun back when it was offered to him and stood to resume his firing stance wondering at Q’s sudden skittishness.

“Right! Last clip. Er, even shots, ten second intervals, let’s see how this batch does.”

As it turned out, not very well. When Bond had finished firing Q rang R & D to inform them that there was a grand total of twenty three unexploded bullets from the afternoon’s experiments for the technicians to dispose of safely. Q re-boxed the gun and tucked it under his arm. He left quietly, holding the door open for Bond. As he tried to pass Q cleared his throat.

“Bond… I…” Bond lent against the wall as Q turned pink and struggled to speak. “I wonder if you’d… dinner... with me…um… I mean to say…”

When it became apparent that Q was completely tongue-tied Bond took pity on him.

“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight Q?” They'd eaten together before and Bond couldn't see for the life of him why Q should be acting so nervously. Q gawped comically and then closed his eyes and nodded.

“I… Yes please. I have something I’d like to ask you – a favour as it were– a personal mission if you like. I’d like to offer it to you and it’s a little difficult to find the right words…” Bond placed a hand on Q’s shoulder and immediately withdrew it when he jumped. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“No it’s fine. It’s all fine.” He seemed distracted, “I’m sorry, it’s just I’ve just been thinking about this for a while…”

“Q,” Bond’s gravelly voice cut him off, “I’ll pick you up from your office at 6.30. Will you be finished by then?” Q nodded and started for the lift. He called after him. “Q? They’ll be plenty of time for you to find the right words this evening.”

Bond used the locker room showers to freshen up and change into his spare suit. He adjusted his tie in the mirror and slipped on the midnight blue jacket before straightening his waistcoat. He didn’t often go for a three-piece but he thought he’d make a bit of an effort for Q, even if this was just dinner. He mulled over what it could be that Q wanted to ask him. He was a slight little thing compared to Bond but he’d seen him put 008 on his arse with his own eyes so he didn’t think it was personal protection he was after. As he ran his fingers through his hair he shrugged. 

He’d just have to wait and see.

He arrived at Q’s office punctually and knocked.

“Come in, won’t be a sec…” Q’s voice sounded muffled and Bond entered to see his quartermaster standing with his back to him, putting on a thick black jumper. Bond got a brief tantalising glimpse of his naked back, creamy and unblemished before it disappeared from view. He turned, his smile widening before falling. “You’ve suited up. You… you look very smart.” Bond grinned and unashamedly looked Q up and down slowly.

“You didn’t mention a dress code and you know us double-0s – we never knowingly underdress. I have to say though, you look positively delicious out of tweed.”

Q blushed and smiled nervously as Bond drank in the sight of him. The slightly oversized black jumper he wore had a turtle neck which nestled under his jawline. He wore a pair of tight inky black jeans which sat low on his hips and a pair of chunky boots. He picked up his parka and fingered it nervously.

“I hope you don’t mind but I booked us a table. There’s this French place, not far from where I live. It’s a bit… low key but the food’s good.” Bond stepped aside and waved Q on.

“Sounds wonderful. Lead on.”

 

The restaurant, it turned out, was fabulous.

Situated in a side street and furnished with Formica tables and chairs it certainly had a low-key feel to it. However the food was excellent and their wine list, although not extensive, was impressive. Bond spent several minutes conversing with the owner in French before allowing Q to order for both of them. They spent an enjoyable couple of hours chatting and eating. Bond noticed that Q was adeptly keeping them away from talking about work and, more intriguingly, about what Q wanted to ask him. Eventually Q called for the bill.

“I wonder if you’d like to come back to my flat for coffee. We could talk about that favour in private.” 

Bond nodded, surprised as Q took out his wallet and settled the bill for considerably less than the advertised prices. 

“Of course.”

Q’s flat was literally just around the corner from the restaurant and they walked in silence, their collars turned up against the cold. A security system allowed them access before they took the lift to the top floor. Despite the shabby exterior of the building Bond was surprised to find himself in a clean, modern, open plan loft conversion. He toed off his shoes, following Q’s lead and sat down on the large sofa that dominated the room. Q busied himself for a moment or two, turning on the artificial fire, putting music on the stereo and making coffee with the gadget in the kitchen. 

He returned to Bond with the coffees and handed one over before sitting down, tucking one leg beneath him. Bond took a sip and waited for him to speak.

“This isn’t easy Bond. I have a problem and I think you can help me with it. I’m not sure that you’ll want to but I don’t really have anyone else I can turn to.”

He cast his eyes down and stared into his mug. Bond put down his coffee and leaned forward, his fingers brushing the side of Q’s arm.

“Anything. We’re friends… I mean, aren’t we?”

Q nodded. After a moment’s hesitation he spoke.

“When I was nine they did these tests and I was put in a program for gifted children. You know, one of those fast-track things?” Bond didn’t really know but he nodded anyway, encouraging Q to continue.

“I completed my first degree, in Computer Sciences, at Oxford when I was thirteen. My second was at Cambridge when I was seventeen. That one was in Mechanical Engineering. I completed my Master’s degree in Applied Physics and Chemistry when I was twenty-one, also at Cambridge. When I was nineteen I was head-hunted by MI6 so they mentored me for my last two years and when I left university I came to work for them straight away on an internship under Boothroyd in Q division.”

That explained a lot, Bond thought. Thirty-two was extremely young to be a Quartermaster but if he’d had eleven years’ experience under his belt and was a bloody certified genius to boot…

“I was never a ‘normal’ teenager. I didn’t go out drinking. I was too busy studying to socialise and then when I moved to London I seemed to spend most of my free time researching or helping develop the more bats-arse ideas that Boothroyd came up with. Remember the ‘invisible’ car?”

Bond nodded. Did he ever. Q laughed.

“That was one of mine. He sketched the basic principle onto a paper serviette of all things one lunch time and then told me to make it happen. It only took me five months. Of course he’d retired by the time I’d finished it but I was quite proud of that one…”

Q took a sip of his coffee and Bond saw that his hands trembled a little.

“Anyway, I’m digressing. What I’m trying to say is, I’ve never had time to… you know… be with someone and I’ve come to the conclusion that I need help because it’s making me so fucking nervous.”

Bond picked up his mug, took a swig and wondered where the hell this was going. Q took a deep breath.

“I still have my virginity Bond and I need you to help me to get rid of it.”

It was quite impressive how far Bond managed to spray the mouthful of coffee in his shock. He choked as Q swore and dashed to grab the roll of paper towels from the kitchen before tearing off handfuls to wipe Bond and the sofa down with. Eventually Bond wiped his eyes and croaked.

“Fucking hell, it’s a good job I didn’t go with the pale grey suit.”

For a moment they caught each other’s gaze before both dissolving into gales of laughter.

 

Once they’d calmed down and the worst of the coffee had been mopped up Bond leant forward.

“So explain to me exactly why you want me to do this.” He voice was soft but it still started Q’s hands trembling again.

“I’ve met someone. He’s…” he closed his eyes and the sweetest smile lit up his face, “He’s funny and handsome and sexy and loyal and …” he looked at Bond, “… and I’d like to be with him. I think I could fall in love with him but I’m a grown man and I’ve never been with anyone and I don’t want to disappoint him.”

“Why don’t you just tell him?”

“Because I don’t want to be that guy. I want to be his lover not some fucking pity case!” His eyes flashed as he stood up. “That’s not what he deserves. Some wincing, apologetic child!” He ran his hands through his hair, making it stand up crazily. “I want to take him to bed as his equal. I want to make love to him, adore him. I want him to be able to make love to me without me flinching every time he tries to touch me.” His shoulders sagged, looking defeated. “Am I an idiot?”

Bond carefully sipped the remains of his coffee. He shook his head and instead of answering, he asked a question of his own.

“Why me?”

“Bucharest.”

James nodded. Bucharest. Two months before, after exploring all the options open to him, he’d taken an oil baron’s son to bed in the hopes of finding out where his father might have been initiating illegal trade deals with Russia. The man had flirted with him all evening before Bond had taken him back to his hotel room. It was only once they were naked and Bond had slicked up his condom-encased erection that he had whispered that Bond was his first. 

“I listened in. Someone in the branch has to you know, in case you are compromised mid-fuck, and I heard what you did. The sounds he made as you took him. You sounded so gentle.” Bond rested his elbows on his knees and took his face in his hands.

“Christ Q…”

“Please Bond. I just need to… I need to get rid of it.”

“It’s not something you should be throwing away.”

“No, perhaps not, but it is something that’s stopping me from getting what I want.” Bond felt, rather than saw, Q kneel down in front of him and rest his hands on Bond’s knees. “And if I were to throw it away I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have help me do it. Please James. My friend.”

Bond looked up and straight into Q’s pleading eyes.

“You’re going for emotional blackmail? Really?”

Q laughed and tilted his head coyly.

“Is it working?”

Bond sighed as he stood up. He walked over to the window and looked out onto the London skyline. 

“There would have to be rules.”

“Of course.”

“Rule number one is that I don’t use safe words. If I do anything you don’t like or you’re not comfortable with say no and I will stop. And that includes anything that you might think I want you to do.”

“OK.”

“Rule two is that you will tell me the instant anything hurts. I’m not prepared to ‘break you in’ but I’m willing to teach you how to relax into it if you want. How to enjoy it.”

“OK.”

He looked back at Q who was still kneeling on the floor.

“Rule number three. I want you to really think about this. Make absolutely sure that you are making the right decision. Although I will do my best for you and I’ll make damn sure you enjoy it, it will just be another fuck for me. I’ll be doing you a favour. Remember it could be so much more if you saved it for this guy you’re sweet on.”

Q nodded. Bond looked at the time. It was almost midnight.

“I should go.” He walked over and picked up his jacket. Q stood up. “I’ll be here after you come home from work on Friday. Do you have the whole weekend off?” Q nodded. “Good.” As he reached the door he turned back. 

“One last thing. What’s your name? Your real name?”

“Tom.”

“OK. See you on Friday, Tom. Text me if you change your mind.”

 

For all his boredom, Friday came around almost too fast. 

Sex was pretty much insignificant to Bond these days; a quick way to get off and extract information and if he could do both simultaneously, so much the better. He didn’t pretend to understand why Q had made the decision that he had but he was an attractive man and Bond had to admit that a certain hind-section of his brain was crowing at the thought of taking him. As he carried his overnight bag into Q’s block of flats he tried to imagine who Q had become so smitten with that he’d found himself in this position. He had a feeling he might want to shake that man’s hand before the weekend was over. He reached Q’s front door and rapped on it twice. He heard the music as soon as the door opened.

“Pink Floyd, Tom?” Q smiled as he pushed the door open wide to let Bond in. He looked like he hadn’t been home long. He still wore his work clothes although his shirt’s collar was open and his tie, shoes and socks were missing. He let his jacket slip from his shoulders and handed it to Q with his bag when he put his hand out for it. He watched him pad to a chair by the bed and put them there.

“My dad is a huge Syd Barrett fan. He thinks Gilmore drove him out of the band by feeding his drug habit. This album always makes me think of my dad ranting about what a bastard he was.”  
Bond wasn’t much for popular music but he recognised the opening bars to ‘Shine On You Crazy Diamond’.

“Wish You Were Here?”

Q nodded as he went over to the kitchen. He took the lid off a pan and stirred the contents.

“I made spaghetti alla puttanesca. Want some?”

Bond’s stomach growled at the delicious smell and he laughed.

“I guess I do.”

They ate mostly in silence sitting on the tall stools at the breakfast bar. They accompanied the pasta with a beer each. It was very good and Bond told Q as much.

“Don’t thank me, thank my nonna. It’s her recipe.”

Bond raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t know you had any Italian in you.”

Q took Bond’s empty plate and put it in the dishwasher along with his own.

“There’s a terrible joke in there somewhere…”

Bond laughed and drained his beer. Slipping off the stool he rounded the bar and stood behind Q as he rinsed the pasta bowl in the sink. He lightly placed his hands on Q’s hips causing the younger man to stiffen. Moving forwards, he breathed his next words onto the nape of his neck, making him tremble.

“It’s not too late. Call him. Call this other man that you’re so hung up on. Let him come over tonight. Let him have… this… you.”

Q put the bowl in the sink and covered Bond’s hands with his own wet ones. He hung his head and whispered.

“I can’t. Please don’t make me send you away.”

Taking hold of the edge of the sink, Q pushed back into Bond, rolling his hips as their bodies met. 

“Please.” He breathed and for a moment Bond’s brain ceased working. The buzz from the beer and good food combined with the hard line of Q’s body and the knowledge that Q wanted Bond to take his virginity made his head spin. He growled and curled one hand around his hip while the other reached up and slowly drew down the zipper on his cardigan.

“When was the last time someone touched you? Have you ever been touched?”

“There was a guy named Charles. He… he wanked me off.”

Bond hummed as his hand moved from unzipping the cardigan to unbuttoning Q’s shirt slowly. When it was half undone he tugged one side off Q’s shoulder and gently kissed the side of his neck before licking the same spot. Q began to shiver.

“How old were you?” 

Bond deliberately spoke onto the damp flesh, his breath cooling the warm skin and smiled to himself when Q jolted.

“Seventeen.”

“And that was the last time?”

“That was the only time.”

Christ.

Bond resumed unbuttoning the shirt as his other hand unhooked the waistband of his trousers and unzipped the fly. Q whined when he slid his hand inside to cup him through his underpants. He grasped him lightly as his other hand brushed up over his ribs.

“Was he the same age as you?”

Q nodded, a strangled noise indicating he was no longer in any fit state to grapple with the English language. His thighs trembled as he squirmed, his buttocks pressing back into Bond as he tried to escape his incessant caresses. Bond held him fast.

“Never like this then? You’ve never been touched by a real man?”

Q was fully hard now so Bond grasped his cock through the cotton and rubbed his thumb over the head, delighting in the hot, damp patch that he found there. His other hand found a budding nipple which he scratched as the hand on his length stroked just once…

The sound Q made as he came was exquisite. He shuddered as Bond gripped him, the damp patch blooming as he shivered and pulsed. Bond held him as his knees threatened to buckle and kissed his shoulder. It took several moments for him to get his breath back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Oh fuck, Bond…”

Bond released him when he squirmed to get away, clutching his trousers to himself. He stood back and slowly licked his thumb, tasting salt and musk, while Q tried to pull his shirt back on and his trousers up simultaneously and failed to do either. 

“Tom. Tom?”

Q stopped and looked at Bond who was now licking his fingers. He blushed when he realised what he was doing.

“Why are you apologising?”

“I…” Q looked confused.

Bond stepped forward and framed Q’s face with his hands. Slowly, so as not to alarm him, he lent in and kissed him. The sigh that came out of Q was almost one of relief. He leaned forward into it, his eyes fluttering shut as Bond probed his mouth with his tongue. He slid his hands up into Q’s hair and backed him up to the sideboard, pressing the length of his body against him. He broke off the kiss and pressed their foreheads together.

“You have just come simply from the lightest touch of my hands and the sound of my voice. Do you have any idea how sexy that is? How desirable you’ve made me feel? Jesus, I almost lost it myself.” He grasped Q’s wrist and pressed his hand onto his own cock where it strained against denim. “Do you feel that? Do you feel how hard I am for you?” He kissed Q again as he felt his fingers tentatively flutter over him. “Now what do you say we get out of our clothes and take a shower together?”

Q nodded and led Bond to the bathroom. He fiddled with the mixer taps for several moments while Bond stripped off his jumper. He was unbuckling his belt when Q turned back and stopped, mesmerised. He carried on slowly unbuttoning his jeans before peeling them off, his hard cock springing free.

“No underwear.” Q whispered in awe, stepping forward. “May I?”

Bond expected him to put his hand on him again but instead Q fell to his knees in front of him. Looking up at him his tongue darted out, licking across the head of his cock. Emboldened by Bond’s moan of approval, he cupped his bollocks and, engulfing the head with his lips, hesitantly sucked.

Bond whimpered. He honest to God whimpered. He didn’t remember ever making a noise like that before but then he was pretty sure he’d never had his cock sucked like this before. Uncertainly; shyly, almost. Q’s wide eyes staring up at him questioningly through his glasses, his pupils blown wide and no doubt mirroring Bond’s own. He grasped the root of him and tried to take more in, choking slightly as the back of his throat was brushed, tears springing into his eyes, brightening them. All the while his tongue moved, lapping, stroking and caressing the shaft. Bond tried to tear his eyes away but he was transfixed until he couldn’t take it any longer, dragging himself away for fear of coming when he wanted so much more. Q went to wipe his chin as he stood but Bond hauled him up into a rough kiss, greedily licking the taste of himself out of the younger man’s mouth.

“Where the fuck did you learn to do that?” He demanded, his voice low and gravelly.

“It’s amazing what you can find on the internet.”

Bond laughed and pulled him back into the kiss, stripping his cardigan and shirt off together. He then removed his trousers and soiled underwear before pushing him into the shower where he immediately pressed their naked bodies together. Q jumped, instinctively jerking away and Bond cursed himself for forgetting for a second that this was all new to him. He smoothed his hands down his arms, gentling him as one might a spooked animal and kissed him again. Q relaxed and melted into his arms, slowly moving to embrace him. Bond snagged the shower gel and massaged it over his shoulders and down his body, delighting in the little noises of pleasure Q made. He then encouraged Q to do the same for him, allowing him to linger over every scar, pressing his fingers into them and scrutinising them myopically without his glasses which he’d removed and placed on the shower caddy.

When they were both dried off Bond led Q to his bed. The sheets were pristine white and clean. Q hesitated at the foot of the bed and for the first time he looked scared. Bond went to his bag for lube and condoms and put them on the bedside table before he drew back the duvet and got into the bed, resting his head on one hand and offering the other to Q.

“Come on then.”

Q licked his lips and nodded but he didn’t move. Instead he stood looking lost. Naked and vulnerable without his clothes or glasses, he wrapped his arms around himself and for a moment Bond thought he would change his mind. Bond sat up, ready to call the whole thing off.

The thing was though, looking up at Q – Tom - now he realised that it was the last thing that he wanted. Looking at the beautiful sylph-like body of his friend he realised that he genuinely wanted him. He wondered how he hadn’t seen it before. He guessed their professionalism must have kept it hidden from him but now Tom was stripped bare both metaphorically and literally before him and Bond felt a twist of desire so sharp it almost made him gasp. He swallowed and tried to keep his voice steady.

“Are you sure you want this?”

Q nodded again and stumbled to the side of the bed before lying down and curling himself into Bond’s waiting arms. He gathered him to his chest and kissed his forehead, stroking back his damp hair. Pushing his head back Bond kissed his long, lean throat eliciting a whimper.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to take good care of you.”

Q nodded, shifting and relaxing imperceptibly as Bond proceeded to kiss his way down his chest. He bathed each small nipple with his tongue before proceeding down over prominent ribs to kiss the hollows of each hip. Q cried out when Bond held his hips and licked up his erection which was straining. It drooled precome onto his belly and twitched violently which made Bond pause as Q writhed.

“Oh God. Please God.”

Bond gently squeezed Q’s bollocks and tugged, helping him to stave off his orgasm.

“Tom, darling,” the endearment slipped out unwittingly, “what do you want? Do you want to come again now or wait until I’m fucking you?”

Q’s face pinked up adorably and he covered it with his hands. Bond’s heart constricted as he watched him try to regain some kind of composure.

“Oh God. Please James, I… I want to come with you inside me if I can.”

Bond reached for the lube and carefully parted Q’s legs, kneeling between them. Reaching out with dry fingers he carefully slid one between his buttocks until it was pressing onto the tight entrance. Q kept his hands over his face as he began to stroke, not trying to penetrate but getting him used to the contact. After a moment, he started to relax and his legs fell open a little further. Humming his approval, James slicked up a finger and resumed his stroking. As he’d guessed the cool, slick sensation made Q tense up before his body warmed the gel and he relaxed again. James lay down on one elbow and gently pressed in, kissing Q’s thigh as the portal gave way. Q mewled and he threw a forearm over his eyes as he was breached. James began to murmur encouragement as he gently worked his finger in deeper.

“Oh God, Tom. I wish you could see this. So good. So hot. You’re taking my finger. You’re so tight, you’ll feel so good …”

He carefully applied more lube and withdrawing for a second, pushed back in with two fingers. Q shuddered.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” he kissed his thigh again, “I don’t want to hurt you…”

Q shook his head.

“No… it’s… no, it doesn’t hurt. Feels odd.”

Bond smiled. His fingers moving more easily now.

“Feels full, doesn’t it? Imagine how you’ll feel with my cock in you. Imagine how it will feel with the man you love fucking you.”

Q gasped when Bond slipped in a third finger. For a second it looked as though he would reach down and grasp his wrist, stopping him. Bond stilled his hand.

“Relax Tom. Just breathe. If it helps, squeeze down on my fingers.”

Q did as he was told, the pressure on Bond’s fingers momentarily increasing before he relaxed and they slipped in further.

“Jesus FUCK!”

Bond smiled as he began to slide his fingers in and out of Q’s body. The effect on him was electric. He planted his feet on the bed and pushed off it. His legs spread wide and Bond knelt up again so he could chase Q’s bucking body and keep up the tempo of his probing fingers. He placed his other hand on the small of his back, supporting him as he searched for the elusive spot inside him. Q grabbed the pillow under his head, looking like he would tear it in two when Bond found his prize, pressing his thumb up into his perineum and stroking the internal bundle of nerves. The effect on Q was electric. He began to pant, small whines of pleasure escaping him with every thrust. 

“Please. Oh God, please fuck me…”

Bond’s animal nature roared even as his stomach sank. Q was perfect. Laid out and waiting to be taken for the first time in his life, he was a vision. A dream. And not for him. He regretfully withdrew his fingers and eased Q’s hips back down onto the bed. He stroked his thigh one last time before getting up.

“I’m sorry Tom. I can’t.”

Q opened his eyes and frowned.

“James?”

Bond scanned around for his clothes, trying not to look at the man on the bed.

“I can’t. You should call the guy you like – the one you want. You shouldn’t let me take this away from him… If he’s everything you say he is he deserves this.” He stopped talking, his voice threatening to break. He would leave. Q could ring his friend. Surely he’d done enough to show him that sex wasn’t anything to be scared of. He grabbed his jeans and jumper from the bathroom floor and hurriedly pulled them on. As he went to grab his jacket Q spoke.

“You know, for one of Her Majesty’s finest, you really are quite dim.”

He looked back to see Q kneeling up on the bed, the white bedding pooled in his lap, covering him.

“What?”

“James…” he said softly, “Just who do you think it is exactly that I’m in danger of falling in love with?”

“Wh...?”

“You James. It was always you.”

Bond felt numb as he tried to process Q’s words.

“Me? Then why… why all this?”

Q smiled shyly and fiddled with the duvet cover.

“I didn’t think you’d want me as a virgin. I thought it would mean too much to you to just take it. You’d think you were taking something too important. I was scared that you wouldn’t want to be with me because you’d think I wanted a lifetime of commitment from you if I went to bed with you.”

“So you don’t…”

Q blushed.

“Baby steps James. I thought if I asked you to sleep with me as a favour… if I showed you it doesn't mean that much... if you thought you were helping me out…”

“…that I’d what? Fall in love with you?”

“I thought you might be willing to give us a chance.”

“Q, there is no us.”

“No.” Q looked rueful. “But there could have been if you’d wanted. I’m not a romantic James. I’ve been alone for most of my life and happily so but when I met you…” He ran his hand through his hair. “I thought I felt something.” He sighed and climbed out of the bed. Going to a chest of drawers he took out a pair of shorts and pulled them on. He lent his hands on the furniture and his head dropped. “I’m sorry I got it so wrong. Thanks anyway, you know, for tonight.”

Bond felt a tightening in his chest as he took in the sight of Q's dejection. 

“You didn’t get it wrong.” Q looked up, hope lighting up his face. “I’ll admit, when I had you laid out I couldn’t take the final step but only because I realised what a gift it was that you were giving away. Not because I didn’t want you. Never that. I just knew that if you were my boyfriend it would have broken my heart to’ve made love to you for the first time knowing that you’d not waited for me.” He wiped his mouth nervously. Shit, he could charm the pants off anyone, why the fuck couldn’t he explain how he felt? “It was too big. Do you see? But… you… I was the guy… the one you.... you know?”

Q laughed, nodding and looked so bloody affectionate that Bond realised what a hash he was making of trying to explain himself. He laughed at himself and tore off his jumper again, closing in on Q. Wrapping his arms around him he kissed him and tried to pour everything he’d been trying to say into it. Q whimpered and let Bond dominate him. He responded beautifully, writhing when Bond kissed and licked up this throat, carding his hands through his hair. He groaned, Bond feeling the vibration under his lips, when he tugged off his underwear and guided him unhesitatingly to the bed once more. He shifted back and spread his legs invitingly when Bond paused to remove his jeans. Once naked again he crawled up the bed and immediately began covering his thighs with kisses. Bond placed a hand on each knee, pushing them up and outwards, exposing Q’s hole. He ducked his head and licked into him. He tasted of lube and musk and it was glorious. Q sobbed as Bond pushed his tongue in deeper and deeper, nuzzling his bollocks.

“Oh shit, please James, so good…”

Hooking his hands under his knees he hitched them up, raising Q’s arse off the bed. With one final lick from his hole to his bollocks Bond knelt up before resting his buttocks on his lap. He looked down at Q and could’ve cried. He was divine. His long pale body stretched out, his face flushed, his cock hard and leaking. Bond snagged the lube which still lay on the duvet and then reached over to grab a condom from the bedside table.

“No, James don’t.”

He paused and raised an eyebrow.

“No?”

“No. You’re clean, I checked your latest test. And I’m… well, you know.”

Bond felt a jolt of desire shoot through him and he growled, nodding.

“Mine” he snarled.

He squeezed the lube into his hand and slicked his cock up with it. Grasping himself, he lined himself up and pushed forward. Q’s eyes closed and his mouth opened as he was breached, his breath pausing before resuming in shallow pants. Bond steadied himself and, leaning forwards, gently stroked his face.

“Breathe Tom. Breathe.”

Q whined and nodded, trying to relax. Bond used his still-slicked hand to stroke his wilting erection.

“Just like before Darling, try to squeeze me.”

He almost whited out as Q’s already tight body clamped down on the end of his cock. He grit his teeth and paused before pushing forward carefully gaining another inch. Q did it again and Bond began to bump his hips in response. After a few minutes Bond withdrew and added more lube. This time, when he pushed back in, Q sighed and reached out for him. Bond allowed him to pull him into his arms and pressed all the way in. Q wailed and Bond thought he’d hurt him until he grabbed onto him, encouraging him to move.

“Take me,” he mumbled, “Please James…”

Kissing him softly, Bond began to move with Q, responding to the insistent tugging of the hands on his hips. The slide became easier and their movements more forceful and before long their bodies were meeting up with a light slap on every stroke. Q cried out into the side of Bond’s neck, his breath heating up his already sweating skin.

“James, oh my God, we’re… we’re doing it…”

Despite the intensity of their actions, Bond couldn’t help but laugh at the amazed tone in Q’s voice. He buried his face into his shoulder and, shifting them up slightly, increased the tempo of his thrusts. He then knelt up and looked down at his prize. Q – Tom – immediately grabbed for his cock. Bond pushed his hand away, replacing it with his own. He stroked him in time with his thrusts, barely aware of the grin which threatened to split his face in two. He gripped Q’s hip with his other hand and watched as he unraveled, his body stiffening and a look of delight on his face so intense it could have been mistaken for pain washing his features as he arched his back and came, spilling over his belly and chest, grabbing handfuls of the sheet beneath him and shuddering. Bond sobbed as his own orgasm overwhelmed him and he bowed his head, pumping his seed into his lover.

Time froze as Bond struggled to regain his breath. He closed his eyes, hyper-aware of every other sense. His skin, which was covered in sweat, cooling quickly. The tight grip of Q’s body seemingly loosening as Bond’s cock softened. The ragged pants of Q’s breathing quietening as he calmed down. Tentative fingertips stroked his face and brought him back to himself. He opened his eyes again to see Q gazing up at him adoringly.

“OK?”

Bond turned his head to kiss his palm.

“OK.” He said and was surprised he was able to speak without his voice breaking. He slipped out of Q and laid down on top of him, stroking his hair back off his brow and kissing him again. The passion had passed and it had been replaced by something warmer, more tender. He rolled them until they lay side by side, still looking into each other’s eyes, still stealing kisses.

“What…” He almost asked Q what had just happened but he realised he already knew. For the first time in years he’d actually made love to someone. He was so used to fucking people he’d forgotten how to connect with someone for the sheer joy of it. Even Vesper… he shivered to think of her with Q in his arms… even his relationship with Vesper was based on a mutual lust but this… He stroked Q’s hip absent-mindedly.

“What are you thinking about?” 

Q smoothed his brow.

“Love.” The word slipped out and Q chased it with a kiss.

“Good. That’s good.”

Q’s eyes slid closed and James held him to his chest, pulling the duvet up over them.

Yes. 

It was surprisingly good.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Not Beta'd so all cock-ups are my own. Please feel free to point them out if some slipped through the net...
> 
> I hang out over on tumblr at iambid.tumblr.com. It's mainly me flailing about Ben Whishaw, Benedict Cumberbatch, photos of naked men and the occasional pussycat being cute but, you know, you're very welcome to come and find me.


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